My muse is doing the limbo along with my mind. It's ducking under the bar to Jamaican rhythyms played on steel drums. I can't focus, get present or buckle down winsockie buckle down. New York images appear and fade like blinking neon signs. Yesterday I read on an awning overhanging a fifth Avenue sidewalk the words "Chinese Mexican Food." I wasn't tempted because what is that anyway, stir fried burritos? Chicken chow mole? Yikes.
Our first grandchild is named Jesse. Our latest is named Jackson. Jesse Jackson. I can't imagine what that means...if anything. In between we have Cody, Carson and Keely. We Waltons are an alliterative bunch. Or should I say an alliterative American amalgamation? Probably not. It's too hard to spell.
So there's my kid on the bed, legs spread, knees hiked up, husband, sister, mom and doctor in close proximity while I sit in the corner under threats of death if I make even the smallest of jokes. I'm not even allowed to comment when the doctor says, "You're not pushing you're just scrunching up your face." Is this rude or what? I'm thinking, yo suture breath, you wanna switch places with the kid and do some pushing your own self, see how that feels. I mean who's doing the work and who's making the big bucks? C,mon, cut the kid some slack. I didn't say anything though. The duct tape on my mouth was pretty tight.
Even after being there I'm still at a loss as to the whys and wherefores of the whole thing. Really. Isn't there some easier way to induce babies to come out? Tempt them with video games or movie tickets or something. Do they have to be shoved out into the world? Maybe if we just talked to them a while longer, they'd come out on their own. Tell them how good ice cream tastes and how much fun it is to read a book. If that doesn't work, sprinkle in a little guilt.
"Hey Baby, you're taking up space your dear old mom needs for other things. She's been lugging you around for months. Come on out now and give her break. We'll put you right back, I promise." Has anybody even tried this approach? What about, "If you don't come out right now, you'll miss the kickoff. " Woulda worked for me.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Saturday, October 21, 2006
Birth
Woowoo Charly is reading a book entitled "Birth" that our pregnant daughter sent us. It's a history of baby bearing and aborning and not a compartment on a train. That's a berth. Of course, they are pronounced the same, so I can understand your confusion. Periodically, she reads aloud a passage to me in her lifelong, but so far futile, attempt to educate, inform and enlighten not only me, but anyone else who may be within earshot. Yesterday she shot me in the ear with a chapter about midwives. Who would have guessed they were women who aided in the delivery of babies. I though those were storks. Midwives were the wives between your first marriage and your last. Anyway, midwives were apparently pretty useful back in the day until priests and doctors came along and declared them witches, took away their brooms, burned them at the stake and in their gingerbread houses and treated them in generally rude and unkind ways. After that, it didn't go so well for the pregnant mothers either. Instead of having motherly Molly and caring Katie helping them through the rough patches, they had Deacon Zacariah, Reverand Stern and Father Let-the girl-suffer-it's-God's-way standing by to help out. Makes me glad I'm a guy, but then I'm always glad I'm a guy even when I have to swap out car batteries. Just now Woowoo Chuck read me a part about how painful giving birth can be. This is something I don't understand at all. If it's so painful, why do women have more than one kid? I mean, I broke my leg back in high school and it hurt like hell. I've tried seriously to not break my leg again. There are six billion of us on the planet. Man that's a lot of pain. And did you know, (like I now do) that women used to give birth squatting, but after the men took over they made the ladies lie down because it was easier for them, the men? Did you want to know? Me neither. In fact I'm thinking of writing a book called "The Mystery of Birth And Well It Should Be." The first chapter will be about midhusbands. These will be the guys who help husbands stay in the waiting room and out of the delivery room. That's why they have waiting rooms, to wait in. Husbands aren't cheerleaders. They don't belong on the sidelines, they belong in the stands passing out cigars and getting pats on the back while saying that's my boy or that's my girl. And now in the background I'm hearing words like uterus and contractions and placenta. There's no need for this. These are not words men should know. Especially midhusbands. All they have to remember is "quit pacing and sit down. It's your deal."
Alrighty then. I've just shown this to Woowoo Charly and now she's stopped reading to me. In fact, she's stopped speaking to me altogether. Apparently she feels that men should be at their wive's bedsides during the birthing. Well, maybe she's right. When we have our next kid, I'll give it a try.
Alrighty then. I've just shown this to Woowoo Charly and now she's stopped reading to me. In fact, she's stopped speaking to me altogether. Apparently she feels that men should be at their wive's bedsides during the birthing. Well, maybe she's right. When we have our next kid, I'll give it a try.
Friday, October 20, 2006
Guy Stuff
I suppose it is ironic that during the rainy season we ran out of water. From our taps that is. For three days we had the "ah there it is" and "whoops, there it goes" experience as I studied complicated water schematics and discussed options over the internet with our California visiting landlord. ( On the chain-of-command, who is higher, the Land Lord or the Land Baron?)
I say complicated in the sense that "righty tighty, lefty loosey" is pretty much the extent of my mechanical knowledge. It's the skill I use for putting in light bulbs so I can go back to reading my book. Nevertheless, I tested this and that and several times the other thing to no particular avail, which was a circumstance that surprised me as even though I know nothing about anything, I always assume I can do something. Luckily ( a word that describes my life) that assumption ultimately proved correct. The thing I did was I called a plumber. (If you think that last sentence was oddly constructed, you've never read Elmore Leonard.) (I copy the best.)
Oscar Torres showed up with his box of tools and his bag of tricks and we discussed the problem over coffee before getting started. Oscar has less English than I have Spanish but, clever fellow that I am, I had prepared my crib notes for the test and had them handy. Words like pipe (tuberia, valve (valvula) (both of which may also be women's body parts; the dictionary wasn't clear on that, but plumbing is plumbing) drain, overflow, locate and excavate were all at my finger tips. After the coffee we set about going over the same things I'd checked for days and came to the same conclusion which was, ta da... nothing's wrong but, ah... something's wrong.
It wasn't until we got to the last resort, a dangerous place to be because once past the last resort there's nowhere to go for vacation, that we discovered the actual problem. Our plan was to excavate (cavar) the pipes that exited the water storage tank and then bypass where we deduced a blockage might have occurred. When we exposed the said pipes, lo and behold, (does anyone say that anymore?) there was an on/off valve three quarters shut. When we turned it fully on, to no one's amazement, water was restored to our casa. The mystery of how the valve got turned to almost closed or had it been so all along and then got clogged just enough to restrict our water flow, remains. It doesn't really matter, we no longer have to consider air showers, (mimes do air showers really well) and we made a new friend, Oscar, who is a funny and very nice guy. (At one point I asked Oscar how to say "leak" in Spanish. He replied the word was gotear but that Panamanians don't use it. He said they say," esta leakyando" (it is leaking) an inglisimo (an englishism). We both laughed because leakyando is a funny word in any language.
I thought at this point my days as an alpha male construction guy were over and I could go back to being the absent minded book worm peering over his half glasses and saying "well actually my dear fellow" that I like to think of myself as when I'm not scratching my crotch and shouting something obscene at the football game on the tube. But nooooo.
The next day I went down to start our friend V's car to keep the battery from dying while she is away. Too late. Doornail. The car is parked snug tight to a wall at the top of a long steep, narrow driveway. There is no way to approach it with another vehicle for a cable jump start. I considered pushing it from the flat area at the top to the steep drive and then letting it roll to the bottom where I could gain access with another vehicle and effect the jump. What stopped me was the thought that some cars have no power steering when they are not running. If this were the case, I would be forced to stop the car on the steep slope and have to effect plan B at a treacherous angle. No way.
My B plan, (C would have been to call someone which was the plan I have used for most of my life and has saved me years that would have been lost to frustration and aggravation, but lost me instead piles of money that, saved, would have put me somewhere between Trump and Gates on the leaderboard) was to remove the battery from V's other vehicle, a pickup truck, and put it in her car. Wrongo again Lugnut. It too was doornailed. Still,there was another battery available, the one on my car. I walked back to my house, retreived my wheels and drove to V's. Removing V's car battery was a piece of cake which is a thing I enjoy when it is a description of doing something or is an actual piece of cake. Removing mine was a reminder that I do know and can use all the English language swear words and several more from Spanish. First I should mention that here is a list of all the tools I now own: a pair of pliers, a pair of needle nose pliers, a small adjustable wrench (I think those are called crescents and it just now occurs to me that that is because of their shape. C'mon, who knew?) and two screw drivers. Absent was, fortunately, a hammer and I say fortunately because I am sure I would have used one had it been available. The screw giszmos on my battery were on so tight and my tools were so inadequate for the job, none of them actually fit on the gizmos, that I was nearly, once again, at wit's end, a place I have already mentioned I don't like to visit because it is far too serious. Perseverence was with me though, that and a lot of rain, did I mention it was raining, and I eventually freed my battery from its restraints and carried it up the hill. By the way, is there any reason they have to be that heavy? I put the battery in V's car, started it up and then, while the car was running, I removed it and put V's battery back in. This was a thing I learned was possible a couple of years ago when I saw a friend do it. (Woowoo Charly says that his battery died so that I would learn that lesson and have it handy on this occassion. Poor guy had to suffer for my education, which is a thing I thought only my school teachers had to do.) I put my battery in the back of V's car and drove it to the bottom of the hill. I put it back in my car and then drove both cars, simultaneously, to my house. No, I'm just kidding, really. Gus drove one.
And so ended my week of he man stuff. It was interesting, fun even, in a sort of manly man way. I restored water to the cave and transportation to the tribe. I kind of miss it. Think I'll go lift something...heavy.
I say complicated in the sense that "righty tighty, lefty loosey" is pretty much the extent of my mechanical knowledge. It's the skill I use for putting in light bulbs so I can go back to reading my book. Nevertheless, I tested this and that and several times the other thing to no particular avail, which was a circumstance that surprised me as even though I know nothing about anything, I always assume I can do something. Luckily ( a word that describes my life) that assumption ultimately proved correct. The thing I did was I called a plumber. (If you think that last sentence was oddly constructed, you've never read Elmore Leonard.) (I copy the best.)
Oscar Torres showed up with his box of tools and his bag of tricks and we discussed the problem over coffee before getting started. Oscar has less English than I have Spanish but, clever fellow that I am, I had prepared my crib notes for the test and had them handy. Words like pipe (tuberia, valve (valvula) (both of which may also be women's body parts; the dictionary wasn't clear on that, but plumbing is plumbing) drain, overflow, locate and excavate were all at my finger tips. After the coffee we set about going over the same things I'd checked for days and came to the same conclusion which was, ta da... nothing's wrong but, ah... something's wrong.
It wasn't until we got to the last resort, a dangerous place to be because once past the last resort there's nowhere to go for vacation, that we discovered the actual problem. Our plan was to excavate (cavar) the pipes that exited the water storage tank and then bypass where we deduced a blockage might have occurred. When we exposed the said pipes, lo and behold, (does anyone say that anymore?) there was an on/off valve three quarters shut. When we turned it fully on, to no one's amazement, water was restored to our casa. The mystery of how the valve got turned to almost closed or had it been so all along and then got clogged just enough to restrict our water flow, remains. It doesn't really matter, we no longer have to consider air showers, (mimes do air showers really well) and we made a new friend, Oscar, who is a funny and very nice guy. (At one point I asked Oscar how to say "leak" in Spanish. He replied the word was gotear but that Panamanians don't use it. He said they say," esta leakyando" (it is leaking) an inglisimo (an englishism). We both laughed because leakyando is a funny word in any language.
I thought at this point my days as an alpha male construction guy were over and I could go back to being the absent minded book worm peering over his half glasses and saying "well actually my dear fellow" that I like to think of myself as when I'm not scratching my crotch and shouting something obscene at the football game on the tube. But nooooo.
The next day I went down to start our friend V's car to keep the battery from dying while she is away. Too late. Doornail. The car is parked snug tight to a wall at the top of a long steep, narrow driveway. There is no way to approach it with another vehicle for a cable jump start. I considered pushing it from the flat area at the top to the steep drive and then letting it roll to the bottom where I could gain access with another vehicle and effect the jump. What stopped me was the thought that some cars have no power steering when they are not running. If this were the case, I would be forced to stop the car on the steep slope and have to effect plan B at a treacherous angle. No way.
My B plan, (C would have been to call someone which was the plan I have used for most of my life and has saved me years that would have been lost to frustration and aggravation, but lost me instead piles of money that, saved, would have put me somewhere between Trump and Gates on the leaderboard) was to remove the battery from V's other vehicle, a pickup truck, and put it in her car. Wrongo again Lugnut. It too was doornailed. Still,there was another battery available, the one on my car. I walked back to my house, retreived my wheels and drove to V's. Removing V's car battery was a piece of cake which is a thing I enjoy when it is a description of doing something or is an actual piece of cake. Removing mine was a reminder that I do know and can use all the English language swear words and several more from Spanish. First I should mention that here is a list of all the tools I now own: a pair of pliers, a pair of needle nose pliers, a small adjustable wrench (I think those are called crescents and it just now occurs to me that that is because of their shape. C'mon, who knew?) and two screw drivers. Absent was, fortunately, a hammer and I say fortunately because I am sure I would have used one had it been available. The screw giszmos on my battery were on so tight and my tools were so inadequate for the job, none of them actually fit on the gizmos, that I was nearly, once again, at wit's end, a place I have already mentioned I don't like to visit because it is far too serious. Perseverence was with me though, that and a lot of rain, did I mention it was raining, and I eventually freed my battery from its restraints and carried it up the hill. By the way, is there any reason they have to be that heavy? I put the battery in V's car, started it up and then, while the car was running, I removed it and put V's battery back in. This was a thing I learned was possible a couple of years ago when I saw a friend do it. (Woowoo Charly says that his battery died so that I would learn that lesson and have it handy on this occassion. Poor guy had to suffer for my education, which is a thing I thought only my school teachers had to do.) I put my battery in the back of V's car and drove it to the bottom of the hill. I put it back in my car and then drove both cars, simultaneously, to my house. No, I'm just kidding, really. Gus drove one.
And so ended my week of he man stuff. It was interesting, fun even, in a sort of manly man way. I restored water to the cave and transportation to the tribe. I kind of miss it. Think I'll go lift something...heavy.
Sunday, October 15, 2006
Spooky Stuff
It's a quiet morning with a cool, gentle breeze flowing over my keyboard and playing with the steam from my cofee cup. It's a friendly, non intrusive breeze and it feels nice, clear but not overly brisk. I'd call it morning fresh if I was of a poetic bent, but since I'm bent in some other way, twisted really, I'll just dispense with the description of air and get on with today's topic...horror movies.
Just by saying horror movies, I've probably lost two thirds of my audience of three, four on a good day, although losing two thirds of four is a lot tougher to do, but after watching a movie last night called "The Boogeyman" I feel I need to clarify a few things for you The Lone Reader and also in my own mind where clarity is, as you know, a transient kind of thing.
First off, Horror movies have several sub genres, any one of which can scare the pants off of you, a bit of a horrible thought in itself, and all have had some winners on the silver screen. A couple from the Sci Fi genre that ran off with my drawers were "The Thing" and "Alien." That's "Alien" the original and not any of the sequels which were more action/adventure than horror movies. Giant bugs and what not have traipsed across theatre screens since the original King Kong made his debut as a leading man and most have left me unmoved. Big, just isn't that frightening.
I'm not a serious fan of the religious horror track either, but both "The Exorcist" and "Omen" were dandy scaries in their day. Lately, movie writers have been putting vampire films in this category by linking them to the devil. I think this is a mistake. Vampires are just the undead, period. They don't need any help from the devil to scare the bejeezus out of you. The whole bit about displaying a cross to ward off evil has never rung true to me. I mean, really, if we could do that, Bush would never show himself in public.
Then there are the reality based horror flicks of which "Psycho" and "Silence of the Lambs" are shinning examples. This kind of movie gets to a lot of people because the horror seems so possible. I mean, who's not afraid of crazy people? There could be one right next door or down the street or waiting for you in the parking garage. Who really knows who they are and what they are up to?
Which brings me to my favorite genre, the what's under the bed, in the closet, making that noise in the basement, out in the alley getting closer, genre. Movies where you imagine the horror, but don't really get to see it clearly until the end. Last night's "Boogeyman" was a good example.
Early in the movie there is a little boy in his bed unable to sleep because he thinks there is something bad in his room. He calls for his dad who comes to reassure him that all is okay. The dad looks under the bed and behind the curtains. When he gets to the closet, he opens the door and pokes around inside for a little while. He then (ha ha ha, I love this!) turns his back to the closet and says to the little boy, "See, there's nothing to be afraid of" at which point something comes out of the closet so fast you can't really see it, grabs the father by the ankles and yanks him back into the closet where his screams are mingled with some kind of snarling. The poor old dad gets one more quick shot as the door flies open for an instant and you see him trying to escape something dark and terrible among the clothes. He's clearly torn and bloody. The door then slams shut, this time very loudly, there's a second of dead silence and then the scene comes to an end. Now that's my kind of scary!
What's yours?
Just by saying horror movies, I've probably lost two thirds of my audience of three, four on a good day, although losing two thirds of four is a lot tougher to do, but after watching a movie last night called "The Boogeyman" I feel I need to clarify a few things for you The Lone Reader and also in my own mind where clarity is, as you know, a transient kind of thing.
First off, Horror movies have several sub genres, any one of which can scare the pants off of you, a bit of a horrible thought in itself, and all have had some winners on the silver screen. A couple from the Sci Fi genre that ran off with my drawers were "The Thing" and "Alien." That's "Alien" the original and not any of the sequels which were more action/adventure than horror movies. Giant bugs and what not have traipsed across theatre screens since the original King Kong made his debut as a leading man and most have left me unmoved. Big, just isn't that frightening.
I'm not a serious fan of the religious horror track either, but both "The Exorcist" and "Omen" were dandy scaries in their day. Lately, movie writers have been putting vampire films in this category by linking them to the devil. I think this is a mistake. Vampires are just the undead, period. They don't need any help from the devil to scare the bejeezus out of you. The whole bit about displaying a cross to ward off evil has never rung true to me. I mean, really, if we could do that, Bush would never show himself in public.
Then there are the reality based horror flicks of which "Psycho" and "Silence of the Lambs" are shinning examples. This kind of movie gets to a lot of people because the horror seems so possible. I mean, who's not afraid of crazy people? There could be one right next door or down the street or waiting for you in the parking garage. Who really knows who they are and what they are up to?
Which brings me to my favorite genre, the what's under the bed, in the closet, making that noise in the basement, out in the alley getting closer, genre. Movies where you imagine the horror, but don't really get to see it clearly until the end. Last night's "Boogeyman" was a good example.
Early in the movie there is a little boy in his bed unable to sleep because he thinks there is something bad in his room. He calls for his dad who comes to reassure him that all is okay. The dad looks under the bed and behind the curtains. When he gets to the closet, he opens the door and pokes around inside for a little while. He then (ha ha ha, I love this!) turns his back to the closet and says to the little boy, "See, there's nothing to be afraid of" at which point something comes out of the closet so fast you can't really see it, grabs the father by the ankles and yanks him back into the closet where his screams are mingled with some kind of snarling. The poor old dad gets one more quick shot as the door flies open for an instant and you see him trying to escape something dark and terrible among the clothes. He's clearly torn and bloody. The door then slams shut, this time very loudly, there's a second of dead silence and then the scene comes to an end. Now that's my kind of scary!
What's yours?
Saturday, October 14, 2006
Night Stalker. Yes!
Kolchak the Night Stalker was a televison show in the early Seventies that lasted perhaps a blink of an eye. It featured Darrin McGavin as crime reporter who weekly (and weakly) encountered all sorts of things that go bump in the night. Vampires, werewolves, mummies, zombies, first wives, you name the monster and it got stalked and ineveitably done in by Kolchak. I loved it. Of course I was at an impressionable age then, where the odd, the unexplainable and the superstitious have a strong appeal. I was, you know, 32 or 33. I liked horror movies, rock and roll, good books and sports. Now that I am older, far less impressionable and much, much more mature, I find that I like horror movies, rock and roll, good books and sports, so it is no surprise that when I discovered a new version of the Night Stalker played every Friday night on my AXN (Awfully Xenophobic Norwegian) channel I was happy as a kid in a crypt when the candle atop the coffin starts to slide and there's that creaky sound of old hinges as the bony hand appears and begins to slowly lift the lid! What delicious spooky creepiness!
The new show is played in a very straightforward, sober manner. Events are taken seriously and presumed to be possible. Kolchak is believed by his compatriots when he tells them of the latest weirdness. This is very unlike the Seventies version which was played lighter, more tongue-in-cheek, with suspension of disbelief called for in heavy doses. But then, the Seventies themselves were lighter, more tongue-in-cheek years by comparison to this decade's where it is reality and not television that more often requires the suspension of disbelief.
There are other shows available now that feature the strange and mysterious, "Supernatural" and "Invasion" come to mind, but they both play at a late hour here in Panama. I have stayed up to watch each one once and neither caught my imagination enough to make viewing them a habit. Night Stalker starts at seven, a perfect hour for we early to bed early to rise-ers. And to think, I used to stay up for Creature Features which didn't even begin until Midnight. Of course, that WAS the Seventies. There were drugs.
The new show is played in a very straightforward, sober manner. Events are taken seriously and presumed to be possible. Kolchak is believed by his compatriots when he tells them of the latest weirdness. This is very unlike the Seventies version which was played lighter, more tongue-in-cheek, with suspension of disbelief called for in heavy doses. But then, the Seventies themselves were lighter, more tongue-in-cheek years by comparison to this decade's where it is reality and not television that more often requires the suspension of disbelief.
There are other shows available now that feature the strange and mysterious, "Supernatural" and "Invasion" come to mind, but they both play at a late hour here in Panama. I have stayed up to watch each one once and neither caught my imagination enough to make viewing them a habit. Night Stalker starts at seven, a perfect hour for we early to bed early to rise-ers. And to think, I used to stay up for Creature Features which didn't even begin until Midnight. Of course, that WAS the Seventies. There were drugs.
Friday, October 13, 2006
A Long Walk
I ran a marathon in 1979. A marathon is a race that is a tad over 26 miles in length. It made me tired, but at the end I got a t-shirt. Yesterday I took a walk. That made me tired too. It was a long walk, but well short of 26 miles. Of course they don't really have miles in Panama, they have kilometers. Miles are forbidden. If you are caught with a mile or two in your possession, you will probably get off with just a fine. If you're nabbed with 26 of them, they'll get you with "intent to distribute" and you could be sentenced to remedial math. With that in mind, I held my walk down to only kilometers which, fortunately, add up a lot faster than miles. It still took me three hours to cover the distance - whatever it was- which is an hour and a half quicker than I finished the marathon. What I did yesterday, was I walked to town. This took me thirty five minutes. I could have made it faster, but at about the two thirds marker, which is a house with a well cared for eucalyptus tree in the yard, my dog's leash broke. Gus is a well trained dog though, so when I say "heel" he will do it three or four times out of ten. If, however, another dog is present, his obedience quotient drops into the "you're wasting your breath with that heel stuff" range. Since most Panamanian houses have at least one small to middle sized dog in their yard and most gringos have dogs the size of ponies, a thing that speaks to U.S. paranoia, having no leash was going to be a problem. After walking about fifty yards, I mean meters, hunched over like Quasimodo and holding Gus by his collar, I decided I needed an alternative solution to the problem. Clever fellow that I am at roughly the same ratio as Gus on that one to ten heel scale, I realized that I was wearing a small back pack that could be utilized, somehow, to hook onto Gus and allow me to stand upright. It was either that or use my belt which I considered not a good idea as I've lost a few pounds, I mean liters, and my pants would then no longer be secured at my waist. Anyone who has tried it will tell you how hard it is to walk with pants down around your ankles. You have to take those choppy little Charlie Chaplin steps which are quite unsightly and besides that, YOUR PANTS ARE DOWN. I hooked a strap at the bottom of the backpack through Gus' collar and held onto the shoulder strap at the top. It worked just fine. It looked silly as hell, but it worked just fine. Our first stop when we hit town was a pet store where I bought a new leash. After that it was on to the video store to return a movie, across the street to the deli to pick up a few items, down the street to Mailboxes Are Us to check on a package that hadn't arrived, then back to the deli to pick up the umbrella I had left there. My umbrella, I should note, is equipped with a hard rubber, cane tip at its pointy end and thus makes an excellent walking stick. Thinking back now, I could have hooked the umbrella to the dog's collar and walked him that way, so there are lots of solutions to these small problems. It's just a matter of which looks the least absurd. After the paragua retrieval, I was struck with a brilliant idea. Well okay it was brilliant idea if brilliant has a synonym that means, "are you out of your mind?" I decided that I was feeling really strong and that instead of taking a taxi home, the original plan, I would walk back. And what's more - you can't just go with a small crazy idea, you must build on them - I would take the long way. The going 'round the mountain route instead of the concrete stairway short cut that we had used to descend. Off we went like Dorothy and Toto only without the skipping and singing. At the end of the town part of our town there is a combination bar and real estate office, a combination that makes sense if you think about it. When you are going to spend house sized money you should have a drink or two first. Gus and I stopped there for water. His came in a bowl and mine came in a green bottle. Fifteen minutes later we continued our trek. There is a very steep road, now paved, that goes up our mountain all the way to the top. Gus and I needed to ascend only about half way where we would turn off at another marathon marker, a basketball court, and then continue along the side of the mountain for what is just a short drive over a rough road until we are home. If you are driving, that is. As it was, walking, by the time we reached the basketball court, Gus was dripping drool from both sides of his mouth like a mini Cujo or Old Yeller at the end and I was just dripping from pretty much everywhere. I had made other jaunts from the house to this point on the planet, the basketball court, so I knew there was about another hour's worth of hoofing still to go. It felt kind of like hitting the 20 mile mark at the marathon. My thoughts ran along the lines of, "what there's more?", and, "are you kidding me?" That is, when they weren't thinking, "I hope that pain's not serious." It's another steep climb from the b-ball court to El Explorador. We made it there in a walking style best described as trudging. Neither of us so much as lifted our heads when a black lab came bounding out a driveway barking his own head nearly off. Yeah yeah yeah give it a rest was kind of our attitude at that point. Our lives were saved at El Ex, okay we weren't really dying, but we were dying to be done, by long cool drinks of water followed by a nearly frozen aguacate batido that tasted like frosted heaven. Onward Laddies, I thought, which was really weird because who thinks "Onward Laddies " these days?, the end is in sight. And so it was, as thirty or forty sweaty minutes later, we crossed the finish line, our front doorway. Gus, panting rapidly, headed immediately to his favorite shady corner while I plopped heavily onto the sofa. Both of us were exhausted, happy and thinking the same thing: Alrighty then, where's my t-shirt?
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Finding a Topic
I'm on my third cup of coffee and I still haven't decided on today's topic. I've read all the news... everybody's mad at North Korea, personalized jet packs are coming, Broncos release Sauerbrun, kids need more playtime, the world is going to hell in a handbasket and we still don't know who's hand is ON the basket, Iraquis are dying, Streisand sings again and blood tests reveal Bush is reptilian in origin... all things that either go without saying or need no further clarification leaving me still topicless.
There was one thing I found interesting, but I really don't know what to say about it beyond way-ta-go and that is this: Scientists from the U.S. have won every Nobel Prize awarded so far this year. Only the prizes for Peace and Literature remain. I know what you are thinking and yes I should be in the hunt for both, but I'm not getting my hopes up. Some of the other writers under consideration are pretty good too. And as far as Peace is concerned, I think I have made it clear that my feelings are pretty much aligned with the guy who does the announcing at boxing matches. Two seconds after he shouts, "Let's Get Ready To Rumble" he leaps the hell out of the ring and disappears. Maybe he'll get the prize. I think he's American. We're going for the sweep.
Speaking of literature, do self-help books count? I've just finished one, "The Extraordinary Healing Powers of Ordinary Things" and I'm reading three others simultaneously. These are "Life After Death, The Burden Of Proof", "The Book of Understanding, Creating Your Own Path To Freedom" and "Writing The Fire, Yoga and the Art of Mking Your Words Come Alive." (Something about non-fiction writers makes them feel they have to put everything in the title. If fiction guys did that we'd save time reading. "War and Peace, A long, rambling story about people and events in Russia that lead you to the conclusion that War is bad and Peace is good." Or "Cujo, the story of a big dog that bites people.") I'm making progress in all three of my self improvment books, but so far I haven't really gleaned the message in any of them. I mean, "Life After Death..."? You bet, I'm for it. "Understanding..."? I will, I hope "...Making your words come alive"? You have to be careful with this one. What if you wrote "werewolf"?
I think I'll go for a fourth cup.
There was one thing I found interesting, but I really don't know what to say about it beyond way-ta-go and that is this: Scientists from the U.S. have won every Nobel Prize awarded so far this year. Only the prizes for Peace and Literature remain. I know what you are thinking and yes I should be in the hunt for both, but I'm not getting my hopes up. Some of the other writers under consideration are pretty good too. And as far as Peace is concerned, I think I have made it clear that my feelings are pretty much aligned with the guy who does the announcing at boxing matches. Two seconds after he shouts, "Let's Get Ready To Rumble" he leaps the hell out of the ring and disappears. Maybe he'll get the prize. I think he's American. We're going for the sweep.
Speaking of literature, do self-help books count? I've just finished one, "The Extraordinary Healing Powers of Ordinary Things" and I'm reading three others simultaneously. These are "Life After Death, The Burden Of Proof", "The Book of Understanding, Creating Your Own Path To Freedom" and "Writing The Fire, Yoga and the Art of Mking Your Words Come Alive." (Something about non-fiction writers makes them feel they have to put everything in the title. If fiction guys did that we'd save time reading. "War and Peace, A long, rambling story about people and events in Russia that lead you to the conclusion that War is bad and Peace is good." Or "Cujo, the story of a big dog that bites people.") I'm making progress in all three of my self improvment books, but so far I haven't really gleaned the message in any of them. I mean, "Life After Death..."? You bet, I'm for it. "Understanding..."? I will, I hope "...Making your words come alive"? You have to be careful with this one. What if you wrote "werewolf"?
I think I'll go for a fourth cup.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Vote For Me 7
Last night's Bronco game was exquisite torture. Not the kind of torture that Bush has authorized in Iraq, Afghanistan and the Blue States to ferret out Democrats, I mean terrorists, but the kind more closely associated with delayed gratification. You wait for it and wait for it and wait for it and finally yeehaw! there it is. No I'm not talking about sex, I'm talking about game winning drives, game ending interceptions, ninth inning home runs, buzzer beating jump shots and, okay I am talking about sex. Last night's game was truly sexy. Two terriffic defensive teams battling to the end and the good guys, the Broncos, winning it late. If I still smoked them, I would have fired up a cig, turned to my wife and asked, was it good for you too?
As we Sevens are prone to saying, Big Fun!
Yeah, I know, more sports stuff. But seriously, what else can you watch that gives you the excitement of not knowing the outcome? Real life? Get a grip. As someone once noted, life is a sexually transmitted disease with a 100% fatality rate. We know how it ends. Movies and Plays are scripted and although a good book may keep you in suspense, if you read it again next week, it will end the same. You can't say that about the next Red Sox tiff or Bronco game. Political races are a little uncertain, but now that the Republicans have learned how to win without actually winning even those have become predictable. And besides, there are serious consequences to Politics. Your world could be stolen. In sports the worst thing that can happen is that your team doesn't make the playoffs. Not to worry, we'll get 'em next year. So pick a team, any team and cheer them on with me for a couple of hours. After that we'll go get our world back.
Vote For Me.
As we Sevens are prone to saying, Big Fun!
Yeah, I know, more sports stuff. But seriously, what else can you watch that gives you the excitement of not knowing the outcome? Real life? Get a grip. As someone once noted, life is a sexually transmitted disease with a 100% fatality rate. We know how it ends. Movies and Plays are scripted and although a good book may keep you in suspense, if you read it again next week, it will end the same. You can't say that about the next Red Sox tiff or Bronco game. Political races are a little uncertain, but now that the Republicans have learned how to win without actually winning even those have become predictable. And besides, there are serious consequences to Politics. Your world could be stolen. In sports the worst thing that can happen is that your team doesn't make the playoffs. Not to worry, we'll get 'em next year. So pick a team, any team and cheer them on with me for a couple of hours. After that we'll go get our world back.
Vote For Me.
Monday, October 09, 2006
More About Nothing
I've got nothing on my mind.
Take a look at the sky and imagine the Universe. I've just read that scientists have determined that all the clutter out there, stars, moons, planets, etc. and all the elements they are composed of, represent less than 5% of what's there. The remaining 95% is nothing. They have given the nothing names, dark energy and dark matter, but it is really still nothing, invisible, unidentified, unknown.
I love a mystery. When you've got that much of something, even if it is nothing, it has to make you wonder. If 95% of the Everything is nothing we may have a really useful, and obviously abundant, resource to work with, so let's put our heads together and think about nothing. I do it by myself all the time.
Lao Tsu, who used to pitch for the Taoists and was a contemporary of Confucius, was a big fan of nothing. He said: Thirty spokes share the wheel's hub; it is the center hole that makes it useful. Shape clay into a vessel; it is the space within that makes it useful. Cut doors and windows for a room; it is the holes which make it useful. Therefore profit comes from what is there; usefulness from what is not there. Which, he added, is why you never draw to an inside straight. It just isn't there. It is clear then, that nothing is good for something. We just need to figure out what.
Scientists also point out that as the universe expands, that is, as nothingness expands, it will ultimately be sameness, starless and lifeless...forever. Another famous philosopher, Woody Allen, after noting this, laments, "More than any other time in history, mankind faces a crossroad. One path leads to despair and utter hopelessness. The other to total extinction. Let us pray we have the wisdom to choose correctly." Alrighty then, Woody.
I've got nothing to do today and that's okay with me. Doing nothing from time to time is an important part of remaining helathy according to Larry Dossey, M.D., whose book "The Extraordinary Healing Powers of Ordinary Things" could use a shorter title, but includes a chapter on nothing. Since being healthy is something I want to continue to be, I'm going to proactively do nothing as often as I can.
I'm just not sure I know how.
Take a look at the sky and imagine the Universe. I've just read that scientists have determined that all the clutter out there, stars, moons, planets, etc. and all the elements they are composed of, represent less than 5% of what's there. The remaining 95% is nothing. They have given the nothing names, dark energy and dark matter, but it is really still nothing, invisible, unidentified, unknown.
I love a mystery. When you've got that much of something, even if it is nothing, it has to make you wonder. If 95% of the Everything is nothing we may have a really useful, and obviously abundant, resource to work with, so let's put our heads together and think about nothing. I do it by myself all the time.
Lao Tsu, who used to pitch for the Taoists and was a contemporary of Confucius, was a big fan of nothing. He said: Thirty spokes share the wheel's hub; it is the center hole that makes it useful. Shape clay into a vessel; it is the space within that makes it useful. Cut doors and windows for a room; it is the holes which make it useful. Therefore profit comes from what is there; usefulness from what is not there. Which, he added, is why you never draw to an inside straight. It just isn't there. It is clear then, that nothing is good for something. We just need to figure out what.
Scientists also point out that as the universe expands, that is, as nothingness expands, it will ultimately be sameness, starless and lifeless...forever. Another famous philosopher, Woody Allen, after noting this, laments, "More than any other time in history, mankind faces a crossroad. One path leads to despair and utter hopelessness. The other to total extinction. Let us pray we have the wisdom to choose correctly." Alrighty then, Woody.
I've got nothing to do today and that's okay with me. Doing nothing from time to time is an important part of remaining helathy according to Larry Dossey, M.D., whose book "The Extraordinary Healing Powers of Ordinary Things" could use a shorter title, but includes a chapter on nothing. Since being healthy is something I want to continue to be, I'm going to proactively do nothing as often as I can.
I'm just not sure I know how.
Saturday, October 07, 2006
Answering the Critics
One of my critics has written in to say that I use too many sport's references in my campaign speeches. Personally, I think this is an in-your-face attack on my game plan. When my strategists and I get together to break down game film of our opposition's offensive and defensive positions, our intent is not to hit a homerun in our next campaign incursion into the the red zone, but merely to matriculate downfield by just moving the chains in a steady manner towards the goal of our parties nomination. Call it small-ball. We are not trying to score using the bomb and we are not blitzing the media. We are simply trying to penetrate the Republican and Democratic zones for the occassional slam dunk like healthcare and when we can't, we kick it back outside for the long range shot at world peace.
I realize as I quarterback my team through the campaign that the presidential race is no sprint. It's a marathon. We may have to go the full 12 rounds to get the decision. Still, I like to take it day to day, one issue at a time because, as Vince Lombardi said, "winning isn't everything, it's the only thing" and even though he was out-of- bounds on that one, throwing up a brick, it does remind me that I have to keep my eyes on the ball, my head down and not try to swing for the bleachers. A good President not only scores big himself, but he makes his teammates better. You'll never catch him playing ball with the opposition.
And so in conclusion I have to say to my critic that sure I use the occassional sport's reference, but he has to remember that once the coin is tossed it's sudden death out there and I don't want to leave my game in the locker room. I know some presidential candidates who did and they didn't even get to first base. I want to get that first serve in because getting ahead in the count is so important. It is so much easier to play with the lead than to come from behind and I know you've got to keep playing until the whistle blows and the fat lady sings.
Because, after all, a presidential campaign is no rose bowl of cherries.
I realize as I quarterback my team through the campaign that the presidential race is no sprint. It's a marathon. We may have to go the full 12 rounds to get the decision. Still, I like to take it day to day, one issue at a time because, as Vince Lombardi said, "winning isn't everything, it's the only thing" and even though he was out-of- bounds on that one, throwing up a brick, it does remind me that I have to keep my eyes on the ball, my head down and not try to swing for the bleachers. A good President not only scores big himself, but he makes his teammates better. You'll never catch him playing ball with the opposition.
And so in conclusion I have to say to my critic that sure I use the occassional sport's reference, but he has to remember that once the coin is tossed it's sudden death out there and I don't want to leave my game in the locker room. I know some presidential candidates who did and they didn't even get to first base. I want to get that first serve in because getting ahead in the count is so important. It is so much easier to play with the lead than to come from behind and I know you've got to keep playing until the whistle blows and the fat lady sings.
Because, after all, a presidential campaign is no rose bowl of cherries.
A Swell Veldt Part 11
When Bongo arrived at the Earl’s deserted campsite he feared at first that Sackable might have been carried off by one of the veldt’s various predators. A quick reading of the signs though, well not so much the signs but rather the actual tracks, told him that his employer was safe and had set off on a path to, he thought in error, no place in particular. A more thorough study of the tracks had indicated that the Earl had done so in some haste, but not before spinning about and then performing what appeared to be dance steps. Bongo placed his own feet in Sackable’s footprints mimicking their movements and quickly realized he was doing the Watusi, a dance his own tribe had invented to amuse white people with movie cameras. In private they waltzed.
Slinging his rifle onto his shoulder, Bongo set out after the Earl anew. He could tell from the general direction his tracks pointed to that his former boss was headed for difficulties. Perhaps even trouble if that’s another way of saying a horribly painful death. Ahead lay lion country, rhino country, leopard country, hyenas, wild dogs and a mean species of impatient buzzards. Ahead lay The Great Water Hole, where all the veldt’s toughest creatures came to bathe, drink, and annoy each other. The bumbling, but still bellowing Earl was making a beeline, which, if you’ve ever watched bees, is not the straightest of lines, towards this, the veldt’s most dangerous place. If he didn’t stop to take on pollen, he’d be there in no time a’tall.
Slinging his rifle onto his shoulder, Bongo set out after the Earl anew. He could tell from the general direction his tracks pointed to that his former boss was headed for difficulties. Perhaps even trouble if that’s another way of saying a horribly painful death. Ahead lay lion country, rhino country, leopard country, hyenas, wild dogs and a mean species of impatient buzzards. Ahead lay The Great Water Hole, where all the veldt’s toughest creatures came to bathe, drink, and annoy each other. The bumbling, but still bellowing Earl was making a beeline, which, if you’ve ever watched bees, is not the straightest of lines, towards this, the veldt’s most dangerous place. If he didn’t stop to take on pollen, he’d be there in no time a’tall.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Vote For Me 6
I will be adding a new Cabinet Level post called the Department of Woowoo Considerations. Woowwoo Charly has declined the directorship of the department, but does wish to be involved and consulted on a regular basis through the usual channels. In other words, extrasensory. I had suggested to Deepak Chopra that he take the job, but he declined, opting instead for leadership of my Department of Health, Education and Welfare of Former and Future Lives, so the position remains open. If you wish to be considered for the nomination, send me your name in a dream.
There will be many tasks falling under the umbrella of the DWC. Here are just a few:
Aura reading. As President, I want to be advised when I'm dealing with someone who is throwing off a bad color.
Vibrations. Are they good, good, good... good vibrations? Or are they bad?
Past Lives. How do they affect our current situation? What did we do to deserve this?
Animal speak. Special emphasis here on whales, dolphins, manatees and my dog. What are they
trying to tell us?
Plant speak. I've never heard them myself, but I'm told they're quite chatty.
Magic. The real stuff, not smoke and mirrors and sleight of hand. You know, like levitation without trickery and my long ago jump shot. Magic.
Seldom Seen Creatures. Leprechauns, gremlins, faeries, mermaids, bigfoots, yetis, etc. Why are they so shy?
UFO's and Extra Terrestrials. Latest evidence suggests UFOs are really biological entities themselves and not just space vehicles. We need to know more. Oh, and what's the deal with abductions? (If anything is already known and being kept from the public, my administration will reveal all.)
Rock speak. What are crystals and other shiny stones trying to tell us?
Time travel. I need to go back and fix a few things.
Earth speak. What is the planet itself trying to tell us. I mean apart from, "quit it."
Indigenous peoples. Why do they seem so harmonious and we don't?
Energy. I'm running out. Going for coffee.
Vote For Me.
There will be many tasks falling under the umbrella of the DWC. Here are just a few:
Aura reading. As President, I want to be advised when I'm dealing with someone who is throwing off a bad color.
Vibrations. Are they good, good, good... good vibrations? Or are they bad?
Past Lives. How do they affect our current situation? What did we do to deserve this?
Animal speak. Special emphasis here on whales, dolphins, manatees and my dog. What are they
trying to tell us?
Plant speak. I've never heard them myself, but I'm told they're quite chatty.
Magic. The real stuff, not smoke and mirrors and sleight of hand. You know, like levitation without trickery and my long ago jump shot. Magic.
Seldom Seen Creatures. Leprechauns, gremlins, faeries, mermaids, bigfoots, yetis, etc. Why are they so shy?
UFO's and Extra Terrestrials. Latest evidence suggests UFOs are really biological entities themselves and not just space vehicles. We need to know more. Oh, and what's the deal with abductions? (If anything is already known and being kept from the public, my administration will reveal all.)
Rock speak. What are crystals and other shiny stones trying to tell us?
Time travel. I need to go back and fix a few things.
Earth speak. What is the planet itself trying to tell us. I mean apart from, "quit it."
Indigenous peoples. Why do they seem so harmonious and we don't?
Energy. I'm running out. Going for coffee.
Vote For Me.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Vote For Me 5
"Oh say can you see by the dawn's early light" yaddidah yaddidah yaddidah "that our flag was still there?" Hmmm. That is one run-on sentence. And a question at that. The Star Spangled Banner - now there's a title for you - used to be considered a difficult song to sing. Not anymore. Pop idols belt this baby out like it was no tougher than Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Of course they deviate (because they're deviates?) from the original composition to the point that I'm not always sure what it is that's being sung. No matter, I just wish they wouldn't take so long. There's a game that needs to get started.
I like our national anthem. As anthems go it's a top tenner on the charts. And even though it is a toughie for we regular folk to sing, it is sung in English and that helps a lot. Most of the others, I've noticed, are in foreign languages and are real tongue twisters. My objection to the thing is simply that it's warbled before getting on with the game and I just don't see the link. Anthem, Packers versus Bears. Why? As I've already proposed an alternative to our national symbol for special uses, I see no reason I shouldn't now offer an alternative anthem specifically for use at sporting events. In other words... "Ah you reddy faw sum foopball? A Munday nite potty? Here we keep the tradition of asking questions in the anthem and the content is more specific to the event. Of course we can change the foopball to baseball or hoopsball or tennis or whatever the sport is along with the day of the week and then we won't have to wonder what "bombs bursting in air" has to do with the soccer moms watching their kids get kicked in the shins. Sure the song will present some vocal problems when the singer has to phrase "are you ready for some synchronized swimming,"but our rappers have shown us with our other anthem that anything is possible. When I'm in office, I'll put it on a ballot.
Vote for me.
I like our national anthem. As anthems go it's a top tenner on the charts. And even though it is a toughie for we regular folk to sing, it is sung in English and that helps a lot. Most of the others, I've noticed, are in foreign languages and are real tongue twisters. My objection to the thing is simply that it's warbled before getting on with the game and I just don't see the link. Anthem, Packers versus Bears. Why? As I've already proposed an alternative to our national symbol for special uses, I see no reason I shouldn't now offer an alternative anthem specifically for use at sporting events. In other words... "Ah you reddy faw sum foopball? A Munday nite potty? Here we keep the tradition of asking questions in the anthem and the content is more specific to the event. Of course we can change the foopball to baseball or hoopsball or tennis or whatever the sport is along with the day of the week and then we won't have to wonder what "bombs bursting in air" has to do with the soccer moms watching their kids get kicked in the shins. Sure the song will present some vocal problems when the singer has to phrase "are you ready for some synchronized swimming,"but our rappers have shown us with our other anthem that anything is possible. When I'm in office, I'll put it on a ballot.
Vote for me.
Monday, October 02, 2006
Vote For Me 4
I've always liked the bald eagle as a national symbol, it's regal and majestic and we need regal and majestic once in awhile. Once in another while though, we need warm and cuddly so I am proposing a basket of puppies as an alternate national symbol to be used on days when visiting dignitaries are in town. It will make them feel good, relax their guard a little and make them more open to our suggestions. I'm thinking Beagle puppies at the moment, they're cute, but mutt pups might be more appropriate for a country of people as mixed as we are. We will all get to vote on the breed as soon as I am elected.
The issue of church and state has come up and I want to say there is no issue. The two will be separate. In fact the two will be so separate they won't be able to see each other with the Hubble telescope. One will have nothing to do with the other. Even my own church, The First Church of The Blessed Sacramental Holy Marys of the Virgin Pentecostal Zen Sniffing Catholic Buddhists On High will have nothing to do with government. Religion is there to control people and make a buck. Government, well at least my government, will be there to protect people, preserve the arts and make golf more affordable. The two will not cross paths. Spirituality, however, defined as "a sense of god" - which, I'm told by a former President is also the definition of orgasm - will be permitted so long as you keep it to yourself and don't do it in the Oval Office.
And speaking of formerPresidents, there is one who shall remain nameless because a lot of people still don't like him, who managed to take on the worst deficits in our country's history, not counting today's, and not only balance the national budget during his term but to leave office with a a big fat surplus. I forget, tell me again why we don't like him? Anyway, I'm going to get he and his team back on the economic job. I don't know the numbers just yet, but I can promise this: Minimum wage will go up. Maximum wage will go down.
Vote for me.
The issue of church and state has come up and I want to say there is no issue. The two will be separate. In fact the two will be so separate they won't be able to see each other with the Hubble telescope. One will have nothing to do with the other. Even my own church, The First Church of The Blessed Sacramental Holy Marys of the Virgin Pentecostal Zen Sniffing Catholic Buddhists On High will have nothing to do with government. Religion is there to control people and make a buck. Government, well at least my government, will be there to protect people, preserve the arts and make golf more affordable. The two will not cross paths. Spirituality, however, defined as "a sense of god" - which, I'm told by a former President is also the definition of orgasm - will be permitted so long as you keep it to yourself and don't do it in the Oval Office.
And speaking of formerPresidents, there is one who shall remain nameless because a lot of people still don't like him, who managed to take on the worst deficits in our country's history, not counting today's, and not only balance the national budget during his term but to leave office with a a big fat surplus. I forget, tell me again why we don't like him? Anyway, I'm going to get he and his team back on the economic job. I don't know the numbers just yet, but I can promise this: Minimum wage will go up. Maximum wage will go down.
Vote for me.
Sunday, October 01, 2006
Vote For Me 3
As President I will continue the tradition of throwing out the first ball of the new baseball season. However, as a testament to my non-partisonship, I will create a new traditon in which the leader of the opposition party gets to run back the first kickoff of the new football season.
Before I get back to specific issues like should we legalize Gay abortions, I want to say a few words about my overall political philosophy. I feel it is time to end this us against them mentality that the previous administration has foisted on the American people. I want, instead, to implement the sense of us and them working together against ignorance, intolerance, bigotry, poverty, hate and, especially, war, until there is no them at all. Only us. A world encompassing us that permits diversity and cultural differences but recognizes that we are all one people. As diferent as the Alabama farmer is from the Connecticut antiques dealer they are both a part of our current definition of us. Why not include all the world's peoples in that definition. Wouldn't it be harder to go to war if you had to say, "General get the troops ready, we are going to attack us?" And wouldn't it be easier to help if you said, "Some of us are having a problem. Let's the rest of us lend a hand?" Unity creates harmony. That's why the founding fathers named us the "United" states. My administration will work to unite the world.
Vote for me.
Before I get back to specific issues like should we legalize Gay abortions, I want to say a few words about my overall political philosophy. I feel it is time to end this us against them mentality that the previous administration has foisted on the American people. I want, instead, to implement the sense of us and them working together against ignorance, intolerance, bigotry, poverty, hate and, especially, war, until there is no them at all. Only us. A world encompassing us that permits diversity and cultural differences but recognizes that we are all one people. As diferent as the Alabama farmer is from the Connecticut antiques dealer they are both a part of our current definition of us. Why not include all the world's peoples in that definition. Wouldn't it be harder to go to war if you had to say, "General get the troops ready, we are going to attack us?" And wouldn't it be easier to help if you said, "Some of us are having a problem. Let's the rest of us lend a hand?" Unity creates harmony. That's why the founding fathers named us the "United" states. My administration will work to unite the world.
Vote for me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
